


Children No Longer Obey Their Parents, and Everyone Is Writing a Book

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Social Media
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 21:15:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7122847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Octavia says Bellamy is never going to get on Snapchat, which Clarke takes as a personal challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Children No Longer Obey Their Parents, and Everyone Is Writing a Book

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: my best friend became a meme and I can't stop laughing

The thing is, when Octavia says, "Yeah, Bell is _never_ gonna get Snapchat," Clarke can't help bristling. Not, like--she wouldn't have said, before, that she _cared_ if Bellamy got Snapchat. She enjoys Snapchat, in that she thinks it's fun to take weird pictures of herself and her cat, and she likes getting updates from friends. But Snapchat is never going to be a hill she wants to die on. And Bellamy and social media is always a hard sell, so, really, it's not a big deal.

Except that she _did_ get Bellamy on Tumblr, because she kept linking him funny shit she reblogged and he finally got fed up and decided to just follow her instead of checking her blog every day manually. And he has a Twitter he uses to argue with corporate accounts, because that's what he's into. So it feels like Snapchat shouldn't just be completely off the table. He sends selfies sometimes. She doesn't see why he wouldn't send them via Snapchat.

Which is why, the next time she sees him, when they're both at the library studying, she kicks him under the table and says, "Snapchat."

"What?"

"Why won't you get Snapchat?"

He raises his eyebrows. "Is this something I have to justify now?"

"No, I'm just curious."

He shrugs. "It's pointless? I can just send people pictures. I don't see why I need an app for that. And every filter O has ever showed me is fucking terrifying."

"Okay, so, practically speaking? There's actually a great reason to get Snapchat."

He raises his eyebrows, his standard _what bullshit are you trying to sell me now, Clarke_ look. "Yeah?"

"So, how good at you at taking selfies? Wait, don't even answer, I know you're terrible. When you take a bad selfie, it's on your phone taking up space and you have to delete it, right?"

"Sure."

"Snapchat doesn't save the photos. So you can take as many as you want until you get a good one, and then send that one, and none of them will be on your phone."

"Huh. I guess that's cool."

"And if you get one you really like you can save it. There's a download feature. So your phone is less full of selfies you don't want. And it's not like you have to use the filters." She pauses. "Plus, _I_ take way more selfies on there. You're missing out on some quality content, Blake."

"Yeah, quality isn't the word I'd use. I've seen the ones you post to your Tumblr."

"Follow for more soft bisexual."

He snorts. "As always, your logic is compelling." There's a deliberateness to how he opens his book, and she's not surprised when, after about twenty minutes of reading, he pulls out his phone. "I don't have to post pictures for everyone, right?"

She bites back on her smile. "Yeah, you can just send them to your friends, if you want."

He scowls as he works the phone, and Clarke goes across the table to sit next to him instead. He smells rich and warm, like he always does, and she tries not to think about how much she wants to kiss him. If she was smart, she'd say no when he asks if she wants to hit the library, but--he's her best friend, among other things. Of course she wants to spend all her time with him.

"Okay, so, first you register," she says, when he opens the app, and he snorts at her.

"Your faith in my technological skills is, as always, appreciated. I know how to sign up for an account."

"I'm guiding you."

"My hero."

She does walk him through adding her as a friend, and then the two of them take a selfie, which she shows him how to save to his phone and then send to her.

"And now I have it for the next--oh, set your time longer. The next few seconds."

"What happens after that?"

"I can replay it once and then it's gone. Snapchat, like life, is fleeting."

"Huh."

She replays the snap and screencaps it. "And it'll tell you I took a screenshot, so you know when people are creeping on you." It's a really cute selfie, so she sets it as her background. "And that's Snapchat. Easy."

She takes another picture of them, adds the text, _Suck it, Octavia, I got him on here_ and adds a sticker that says _squad_ for good measure.

"So I send it to you and I'm posting it to my story."

"Which means?"

"Everyone who follows me can see it."

"Great. I wanted you to be my only friend."

"Just like real life," she teases, and he rolls his eyes. 

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," he says, opening his book again.

"Whatever." She nudges her foot against his. "You're going to have fun."

*

"So, what did you do?" Octavia asks. "If you flashed him, don't tell me."

"I just told him why Snapchat is a good platform for selfies."

She makes a face. "Since when does Bell care about selfies?"

"I don't know. Sometimes he's inspired."

"Really?"

Her phone buzzes with a notification: _Snapchat from Bellamy_. Octavia looks at her phone, frowns when there's nothing. 

"Why is he just snapping you?"

"Because he's my best friend?" Clarke says. She opens it up; he's apparently experimenting with face filters. It looks like he ate a lemon.

_Literally everything is wrong with this app._

Clarke takes a picture of herself and Octavia with swapped faces and adds, _your sister feels left out of your Snapchat story_.

There's a pause of a few minutes, presumably because it took him a while to perfect his look of absolute horror. _Please never switch your face with my sister's face. I am not prepared._

"See?" says Clarke. "He loves Snapchat."

Octavia mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, "Yeah, he loves _Snapchat_ ," under her breath, and Clarke ignores her.

*

The thing is, he really _does_ love Snapchat. It's actually kind of amazing, how quickly he takes to it. He's terrified of the filters, but in a fascinated, train-wreck way. Every day he'll send her pictures with all the new things he can do to his face, his expression ranging from horrified to reluctantly intrigued. He actually seems to like the flower crown, just sticks that on random snaps whenever he feels like it, and it's a real struggle for Clarke to let all these great Bellamy pictures just disappear into the ether.

Maybe it was a bad idea to get him on here. It's not like she really wants him to know how many of his pictures she'd like to save.

"I can't believe you're getting sexually frustrated over pictures of Bellamy with dog ears," Raven says, rolling her eyes.

"It's not sexual frustration. It's regular frustration," she says, replaying the snap for good measure. He keeps opening and closing his mouth and looking increasingly freaked out. It's _cute_. She's allowed to think it's cute. "Just, you know. Standard Bellamy stuff."

"Uh huh," says Raven. She leans her elbows against the counter, regarding Clarke. There's something about having a bartender look at her like that which makes her feel very exposed. "How long have you known him again?"

"Since high school," says Clarke. They were apart for college, and that's when the regular texting and selfies started, their way of keeping up with each other even on different sides of the country. Clarke had thought about staying on the west coast once she was done, but she missed the weather and the landscape and, well, _Bellamy_ , obviously. 

Honestly, she'd probably been in love with him before college, but it was in a strangely casual way. Of course, if he'd ever expressed any interest in her, she would have dated him. But he didn't so she got crushes and went on dates and fucked other people, and so did he. And then she got into his grad school and he came to meet her at the airport, even though she said he didn't have to, and that first sight of him, all messy hair and bright smile at the sight of her? 

That was it. She loves him. She's _in_ love with him. But he's the same as always, flirting and dating and her best friend. Which is fine. She doesn't need more. She honestly doesn't. He's enough all by himself.

Raven interrupts her thoughts with, "Just saying, it's sad how long this has been going on."

"It hasn't been going on since high school," she protests. "Just since I moved here." Which--probably isn't entirely true, but it's true enough.

He sends her another snap, this one with the flower crown. He's got his finger on his jaw and he's looking up, like he's deep in thought. _Is it bad if this filter makes me feel pretty?_

She snaps a picture of her beer and adds, _I think you might have an addiction_.

His next one is him grinning, no filter, smile broad and white and perfect, and Clarke takes a screenshot of it before she's even read the caption: _I can stop any time I want to_.

His follow-up chat just says, _That was a good one, huh?_

Raven is watching her intently, and Clarke tries not to blush. _Yeah, that was a good one._

*

"What you need to do is update your Snapchat flirting game," says Anya. Anya is good at Snapchat in ways Clarke cannot even fathom, honestly. She's a professional cosplayer and gamer, which means that Snapchat is a part of her online brand. The closest Clarke comes to having an online brand is that once she did some a pretty popular series of drawings of queer Disney princesses. Which, okay, as brands go, that's basically hers, but yeah. Anya is on another level with her social media.

"I don't think I have a Snapchat flirting game," Clarke says. She gets a picture of herself with her Starbucks cup, which has _Clerk_ written on the side. _Clarke with an E_ , she adds.

"That certainly wasn't evidence of its existence," Anya agrees, sipping her drink.

Bellamy's giving her a very somber thumb's up in his responding snap. _Nailed it_.

"He's my best friend. We don't flirt."

Anya snorts. "Definitely not true."

"Not without plausible deniability," she corrects. She worries her lip. "So, if you were going to send your best friend a flirty snap, what would you send?"

"I like to send pictures of cosplay in progress. Ideally revealing ones."

"That's not really helpful for me."

"You could let me design cosplay for you."

"Oh, I see, you've got an evil plan."

"Evil is a strong word. Most of your tops have cleavage, I'm sure you can take advantage of that."

"I don't think Bellamy understands Snapchat flirting, honestly," she says, smiling when she sees he's sent another weird filtered picture of himself. He definitely has a rainbow coming out of his mouth, and he's alarmed about it. "He's just such a giant dork."

Anya rolls her eyes, fond. "You two are adorable, if incompetent. I'm rooting for you."

"Yeah, that's what everyone says."

*

If Bellamy had asked her for downsides of Snapchat, she probably would have identified _sending mishaps_ as one of the top. It doesn't happen to her that often, or not that _seriously_. She doesn't tend to send things that she'd be embarrassed for the wrong person to get, or to post to everyone. At worst, it's having to explain a reference to someone. It's just never been a big deal for her.

It's Saturday morning when she gets a snap from Bellamy that says, _Fuck, I posted to my story thing._ His face is dubious and a little uncomfortable, and Clarke goes to check the story immediately, because it can't be that bad, right? It's just a snap. His are kind of embarrassing, but it's not like he has many people friended. No one's going to see it.

It's one of the weird brightening filters; he's got blush on his cheeks and his eyes have grown comically huge and the thing has added sparkles basically everywhere. He's got his lips puckered and the app has added a heart, like he's blowing a kiss.

The caption reads: _Am I anime yet?_

Her phone starts to buzz in her hand, and she sees Bellamy is actually _calling her_. Which is pretty rare, honestly, and a little concerning. Bellamy is not a phone person.

"You're so anime," she says, when she picks up. After taking a screenshot, of course. "The most anime."

"Jesus," he says. Clarke can practically see him rubbing his face. "O screencapped it. And Raven. And Monty. And now you and Jasper. Like everyone I know but Miller, and he's probably just not awake yet."

"Who cares?" she asks. "I'm sure everyone has worse blackmail on you. I know I do."

"Thanks. That helps."

"Seriously. It's funny."

"Octavia already posted it on Tumblr."

Clarke bites back on a laugh. Octavia does cosplay with her boyfriend and is a fairly popular writer in the Marvel fandom, so she has a decent number of followers. When Clarke boots up her laptop and goes to Tumblr, the Snapchat post is pretty close to the top of her dash, having been reblogged by one of her and Octavia's mutuals with the tag _#omfg_. Octavia's simple caption is _My dork brother, ladies and gentlemen_ , which does about sum it up. And the thing already has like twenty notes, which--given it's only been about five minutes since Octavia posted it, that's not a great sign for Bellamy's life.

"Oh," she says, careful. Octavia's original post is tagged, _#also clarke's bff #if you're ever wondering who she's gushing about #this is him #judge her taste accordingly_.

There's a long pause and then he says, "You're laughing at me."

"No, I'm not. It's taking up most of my brainpower. But I'm not."

"As always, your support is appreciated."

"It's not a big deal. It's cute. She has like three replies about how hot you are."

"They're probably from sixteen-year-olds."

"Would you prefer they didn't think you were hot?"

There's a long pause, and Clarke's finger hovers over the reblog button. "I don't know why I thought calling you would help."

"Neither do I. You should just come over so we can drink."

"It's nine a.m. on a Saturday."

"And?"

There's a pause. "Yeah, I guess that's what I was hoping for when I called you. I'll be over in twenty."

"I'm gonna reblog it."

He sighs. "I know you are. Say something nice in the tags, okay?"

"Always."

After a few minutes of indecision, she tags it _#this is where I have laid my affections_ and then goes to check her alcohol supplies.

It's closer to thirty minutes when he shows up, but he does have a six-pack of Mike's Hard Lemonade.

"Seriously?"

"I feel like this is the level of shame I'm dealing with," he says. "Mike's Hard Shame."

"Title of your sex tape," she says, absent. "I assume that's also what you felt when you bought Mike's at nine a.m. on a Saturday."

"Basically," he says. "Fuck, I already regret everything about this. How many notes?"

"A hundred-fifty. It's really taking off."

"Want to come up with a drinking game to play while we watch it?"

"I figured that was the plan, yeah."

They sip every time the post gets another ten notes, and chug for fifty, but it gets boring to just refresh the page pretty quickly, so they give up and drink at whatever rate they feel like. Clarke puts on Parks and Rec and reads Bellamy her favorite tags, and he groans periodically and finally just puts his head down on her coffee table in defeat.

"I'm confused by how attracted I am to this," Clarke reads, gleeful. "Hot boys with weird Snapchats filter is my new fetish."

"How many notes?" he asks.

"Almost six-hundred."

"Jesus."

"It's cute."

"Is it?"

"Yeah, it is. Come on, you're internet famous."

"Fucking Snapchat."

She pauses, but lets herself slide her hand into his hair. It's the sort of thing she never minded doing, before she knew she was in love with him. His hair is her favorite thing.

"Are you really upset about this?" she asks. "Because I think it's awesome."

"I'm aware you're a dick," he says. And then, when her hand stills in his hair, "Don't _stop_."

"I think it's awesome in a non-dick way. Like--you're getting your fifteen minutes of internet fame. I hope people start drawing their favorite characters with that Snapchat filter asking if they're anime yet."

"I thought I was doing pretty well with Snapchat," he finally says.

"You were."

"Yeah, but, like--" He huffs, and she rubs his hair in soothing circles until he turns to look at her. "How much hard lemonade have I had?"

"Too much."

"You think any amount of hard lemonade is too much."

"And I'm right."

"I thought I was--I don't know. Kind of charming?"

"You are. Kind of."

"On Snapchat specifically."

She has to smile. "Why do you think the picture's getting reblogged? It's not just because you're devastatingly hot. It's--yeah, it's charming. Guys with a sense of humor about themselves are definitely charming. You're not getting reblogs just because it's funny." She leans forward, using her free hand to check the post again for the latest reblog. It's from her college friend Luna, from her, and she's tagged it _#wow clarke your bf is really cute_. 

"Devastatingly hot?" Bellamy asks, which doesn't help.

"It's like you don't even look at your own selfies," she says. "My friend says you're really cute."

"But _you_ said I'm devastatingly hot." He sits up, dislodging her hand, and the look in his eyes makes her breath catch. She couldn't look away if she wanted to. "What did you say?"

"When?"

"You reblogged it, right? What did you say about it?"

She worries her lip and settles on, "Something sappy."

"Good," he says, and cups her cheek as he leans in to kiss her.

For a second, she can't move, mind whirling with all things this could mean that aren't the thing she wants it to mean. And then she feels him tense, just slightly, enough she's sure he thinks he fucked up, and she throws herself against him, pressing him back on the couch and kissing back hard.

He laughs into it, sliding his hands up her back and slowing them down, making it more of a kiss than a statement.

"Hi," he murmurs, smiling against her mouth. "You convinced me, don't break my teeth."

She doesn't bother responding, just kisses him again, until she can feel his smile fade and he gets caught up too, until it feels like they've been doing this forever. His hands slip under her shirt, warm and rough on the skin of her back, and she tangles both hands in his hair.

It's not until her phone buzzes that they pull apart, and she just stares down at him for a minute, all messy hair and crooked glasses and disbelieving joy.

"Hi," he says again.

"Hi."

"Check your phone."

"Or I could kiss you more."

He laughs and slides his hands up so he's unhooking her bra under her shirt. "What if it's important?"

It buzzes again, so it's a text, and she glances over. "I think it's your sister."

"Then, yeah, ignore it," he says, and pulls her back down.

*

It's over an hour later when she finally remembers to check her phone. She's mostly naked and curled against Bellamy's chest, and they haven't talked about anything. She definitely got a few more texts, but they weren't in any position to stop at that point. Texts and conversation can come later; they had better things to do.

"Your sister says you're internet-famous," Clarke tells him. He's nuzzling her hair, and even without talking, she's not worried. She's very sure what's happening. "And then she says she assumes you're here. And that we should make sure to just send our post-coital snaps to each other, and not to our stories."

"Did she really say post-coital in a text?"

"With a hyphen and everything."

"I raised her right." His thumb strokes against her shoulder, and she has to bury her face against his shoulder to hide her stupid grin. She's totally got a _boyfriend_. It's like she's fifteen again. "Is it weird if I ask you to check the notes again? Does that ruin the afterglow?"

She presses her lips against his skin and then rolls over so she can look at her phone again. "Seven-twelve."

"Jesus."

"Devastatingly hot, like I said."

"I'm sure that's it." 

"It really is, trust me. You're going to go home and read all the notes and get an even bigger ego."

"Probably. But it's not gonnae be as much of an ego boost as this."

"Can I draw fanart of all my favorite characters in that same pose? Is that a girlfriend privilege I get?"

He tenses, but just for a second, and then he laughs and hugs her closer. "If you're my girlfriend, you can do whatever the hell you want."

"I'm definitely going to make you regret that," she says, and shifts on his chest so she can kiss him again. "Of course I'm your girlfriend, Bell."

"Awesome. Then, yeah, do your worst."

She waits until she sees someone else do a parody first, just so it doesn't look too much like she's playing favorites. But Raven sends some picture of one of the dudes from Supernatural in the Bellamy pose to all of them after about a day, so it's not like it's much of an imposition. She wouldn't have had time to do it anyway. Clarke draws her own picture (Steve Rogers, with a second panel of Sam Wilson looking at his phone in horror) and adds, _@augustusbradbury, you're the most anime_.

Two minutes later, she's got a Snapchat of him rubbing his face, with the caption, _#this is where I have laid my affections_. Which, of course, she screenshots and sets as her new background.

She takes five pictures of her smug smile before she gets one she likes enough to send. _You love Snapchat_.

 _That's definitely it_ , he snaps back, his smile warm and fond and enough to make her melt all over. They still haven't really talked much about feelings, but now that they're together, it's so _obvious_.

 _Definitely_ , she agrees, and adds one of the goofy love stickers, just to be safe.

Honestly, Bellamy on Snapchat is the _best_. She's never been gladder to prove Octavia wrong about something.


End file.
